


some unholy key to perdition

by seven_of_cups



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018), caos - Fandom
Genre: Character Study, Dubious Consent, F/F, Gen, Not a romance, but there will be things that are not consensual, exploring real emotions to make up for bad writing in the show, generally consensual but in a very strange unhealthy way, warnings will be in the notes for each chapter if applicable
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-09-06 05:42:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16826308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seven_of_cups/pseuds/seven_of_cups
Summary: It wasn’t so much the threat of bodily harm that scared her. It was that every time Zelda got close to figuring out Lilith’s intentions, something changed, the edges blurred and things got darker, colder. And it scared her that every time Lilith slipped further away, she found herself more drawn in, circling the drain into her waiting arms. (Or, a long and drawn out character study that gets worse before it gets better)





	1. there's a sin round every corner and it stares us in the eyes

**Author's Note:**

> warnings: dubious consent for touching/kissing near the end. threats, fear, some violence throughout
> 
> chapter title from The King by Alela Diane 
> 
> find me on tumblr at spellman-sisters-mortuary !

Zelda was no stranger physical pain. In the right situations it was exquisite. That particular afternoon was no exception. Lilith’s head was between her legs, and her hands were gripping Zelda’s hips, trying vainly to keep them in place. She could work magic with her tongue, always so attentive to the movement of Zelda’s hips and the tightening of her core, dark eyes dragging up from between her legs to the bright flush of her cheeks. And though Zelda was stubborn and prideful to a fault, she couldn’t help but let Lilith do as she pleased. Not that any of the choked moans and quick gasps that escaped her were in protest. She had a hand tangled in Lilith’s thick brown hair, making sure her head stayed exactly where it was, and another digging into her shoulder blade. She was fairly sure there were puffy red lines up Lilith’s back, but she didn’t seem to mind. And Zelda didn’t mind when Lilith dug her nails into her skin, dragging and clutching and burning hot enough that Zelda knew she was drawing blood.

They hadn’t been doing this for long. Less than half a dozen times. And they’d barely said as many words to each other during them. The most they spoke was when Lilith stopped by the house to push herself into Sabrina’s life. She was polite and amicable, but there was always something colder, more calculating, more seductive underneath. That’s how she roped Zelda in, captured her, captivated her. It was slow, at first, the hint of something pointed, lingering looks and an unsettling intensity that sent a shiver down Zelda’s spine, not in an entirely unfavorable way. Then all at once Lilith was on her, lips burning, hands roaming like they knew all of Zelda’s curves and delicate places by heart.

Mary Wardwell first started showing up soon after Sabrina signed the book, after her niece’s hair changed, when she started acting differently. She was there to tag and catalogue it, slipping into conversations and inviting herself for supper. And then gradually, as if she’d always been there, Mary’s presence became regular and expected around the Spellman home. It had been soon after that they found out who Ms. Wardwell truly was. She’d never said it explicitly, not once, but Zelda had picked up on little hints, like omens or bread crumbs. First the disappearance of a delivery boy, and then the black magic books she kept lying around in her office at Baxter High on resurrection and Limbo, books one would find in the restricted section of the Academy’s library. And then it was her incredible depth of knowledge on obscure demons and rare prophecy that she could spout with the offhanded casualty of a woman with extensive first hand experience. And, truly, the way she spoke sometimes was unsettlingly biblical. The prophecy, the subtle warnings, the way she hinted at desire and the carnality of man was particularly critical of the false god and his rules. Though those conversations were reserved for the washing of dishes after meals, stolen glances and suggestive smiles thrown at Zelda amid what she could only describe as religious flirting. Mary celebrated the Dark Lord’s freedom from the concept of sin with an intimacy that witches don’t typically possess. And she had the pretentious ease of someone who knew what was going to happen, a chess player already five moves ahead with the skill and raw power to forgo any alternatives. It was her saunter, the gentle purse of her lips and calculating eye, maybe, that gave Zelda the impression that something wasn’t right. 

It all built up around her, slowly and hesitantly, a fog of unknowing, of suspicion, and then the flickers of knowledge, perhaps. She denied the possibility, thinking it far too absurd. Flipping through her Unholy Bible, she checked and checked again, feeling childish each time. Lilith. First woman, first mortal to defy the false god, first witch, the first follower of the Dark Lord, his favorite concubine, mother of demons. Powerful and ancient, they told Lilith’s story at the Academy to all the first years amid the history lessons of the Church. And Zelda had looked up to her. At night when things were quiet and lonely, she found strength in Lilith’s story. She had been strong before the Dark Lord but even stronger after, her devotion allowing her to rise up and stand close to him, a loyal favorite. So it baffled her that someone as vast as Lilith could be stepping into Zelda’s home every Tuesday and Thursday for Hilda’s home cooking and a nice chat with Sabrina. 

But then one night, sitting in bed with her bible, the fog lifted, and she  _ knew _ . And part of Zelda understood that that was exactly the way Lilith had designed it. But in the moment she’d felt righteous and powerful to have at least  _ something _ over the woman who had all but stolen Sabrina’s affections and practically signed her name in the Book of the Beast for her. Lilith had led her to slaughter, and she had walked in willingly.

Once Zelda knew and once she had convinced her family of the fact, Lilith didn’t deny it. Not when Zelda confronted her in front of them, and not when Sabrina had the good sense to feel betrayed and manipulated. “I think you ought to leave,” Zelda told her as coldly as she could manage, standing tall, barely keeping her voice from shaking. Lilith was far more powerful than all the Spellmans combined, yet there she was, standing in their living room. She could rain hellfire down on them at any moment, have them dismembered with a snap of her fingers, rip their souls from their bodies without breaking a sweat. But she just stood there stoically, almost humbled.

“Probably for the best,” Lilith nodded, looking at them who were frozen in fear and rightfully so. “But I’ll still be here when you’d like to talk again. As I said, I’m not here to hurt Sabrina. I’m here to help. To guide her. Per our Dark Lord’s request,” she tilted her chin down gracefully, mocking what could have been a bow. But she left without conflict or hesitation, and Zelda and Hilda immediately set to putting another layer of protection over their home.

“The Mother of  _ Demons _ ,” Hilda hissed as they worked. “Why would she hide that from us?”

“She’s manipulative. Perhaps she has plans for Sabrina she’d rather we not know,” Zelda offered helplessly, “We have to protect her.” 

“I thought you’d be happy. Satan’s biggest fan and everything,” Hilda drawled sarcastically as they worked.

“Are  _ you _ happy?” Zelda snapped back, eyes searching Hilda’s gaze as her sister recoiled. Hilda stared at her for a moment, brow furrowed and eyes darting around Zelda’s guarded expression. 

“I’m terrified,” she scoffed, her voice shaking and quiet. Zelda sighed and turned her attention to the spell, her throat tight. 

“As am I.”

They stayed away from Lilith for a long while after that. She and Hilda had had more than a few late night conversations on the matter and concluded that if she’d wanted to hurt Sabrina she probably would have by now. It was plausible that she was there to guide Sabrina. After all, Lilith was obedient to the Dark Lord. So Zelda didn’t think she was here in Greendale of her own free will, and Hilda agreed. But there was no doubt in Zelda’s mind that Lilith was here for something else. She had to be. It was too innocent a motive to protect Sabrina. Protect her from what? Guide her towards what? Groom her for what position, what job, what hellish task was the Dark Lord going to request of her? Hilda had the same questions, but they knew they weren’t going to get those answers out of Lilith. So they just had to wait and watch and see what happened. 

Explaining that to Sabrina and Ambrose was trickier. She and Hilda called a family meeting and sat them down at the kitchen table after dinner. They explained, talking back and forth, that they had to be wary of Lilith, to not let her trick them, and to always assume the worst. Ambrose, understanding the gravity of Lilith’s entrance into their lives, accepted willingly, but Sabrina was dismissive of any danger she could be in, convinced as any teenager is of her own invincibility and exception from the rules, and focused instead on the scandal of Lilith’s betrayal. 

“If she was there to help me why didn’t she just say so?” Sabrina protested, disarmingly forceful and stunningly unaware of the danger she could be in. 

“We don’t know, dear. She could want something else from you or have some darker motive she hasn’t revealed yet,” Hilda explained, her expression pained. Zelda remained stoic and vaguely angry at Sabrina’s ignorance.

“The lying is a symptom, Sabrina, of a bigger problem. We just don’t know what that problem might be yet,” Zelda explained as patiently as she could manage before taking a long drag from her cigarette, letting the smoke linger around her face. 

“Okay, so what do we do?” Sabrina asked, always set on a plan, a future, a next step. Zelda sighed and glanced at Hilda.

“We remain vigilant. Lilith can...insert herself into our lives however and whenever she pleases. It’s better to accept her now than to make things difficult for ourselves.”

“How do you mean, Aunt Zee?” Ambrose asked, leaning back in his chair, brow furrowed tightly. Zelda sighed and pressed her lips together, wondering how to phrase it so she didn’t scare them. 

“Lilith is far more powerful than any of us combined. So if she wanted something, she could take it whenever she pleased. If she wants to be a part of Sabrina’s life, it’s better to let her in on our terms, on our home turf, rather than having her  _ slither _ in without us knowing or being able to defend ourselves,” Zelda explained.

“Why doesn’t she just do that anyway?” Ambrose asked, glancing around the table.

“We don’t know, love,” Hilda answered softly.

“Which is why we must be on guard at all times,” Zelda told him and Sabrina firmly. They nodded, though Zelda wasn’t sure whether Sabrina fully grasped the gravity of their predicament.

When Lilith was allowed to dine with them again, she and Hilda and Lilith would talk in the kitchen some nights while they waited for Sabrina to get home from the academy over cups of steaming tea. She was never really sure what they talked about, but they filled up the time. Zelda abhorred her. Lilith was immensely powerful and dangerous, quite nearly a deity herself alongside the Dark Lord. As devout and obedient as Zelda was to him and his wishes, some part of her, tucked neatly away in a place she’d rather not dredge up, was terrified of him being remotely  _ near _ Sabrina. Which meant she didn’t want  _ Lilith _ anywhere near Sabrina. Of course Lilith assured them she was just looking out for her, a guardian, a protector, an extra familiar so to speak. It was the Dark Lord’s will, after all. Oh Zelda knew as much. And she knew should have been flattered. 

Lilith would help Zelda with dishes after meals. She’d taken to coming over once or twice a week. Their hands would brush, and Zelda knew it wasn’t at all by accident. “Zelda, I’m not here to hurt Sabrina. Far from it,” Lilith said to her one night over a dirty plate. Zelda didn’t answer, didn’t even look at her. There was nothing she could say that wouldn’t come off as distrustful of Lilith’s promises. Lilith sighed and wiped her hands on a towel before grabbing Zelda’s arm just above the elbow. Cold fingers wrapped delicately around her warm skin, and it seared her. “How can I prove it to you?” she pleaded, eyes searching but always cold. Zelda looked at her and then the hand holding her in place, anger flaring in her chest. The audacity she had to put on this act as if Zelda would just roll over and take it was astounding to her. And then the things that hovered in the back of her mind were spilling from her faster than she could censure them. 

“Don’t you dare harm her,” Zelda warned, “And if you do, I don’t care who you are to the Dark Lord, I will grind you down into tiny pieces and use what’s left of your body to fertilize my garden,” she practically growled.

“Is that a threat, Ms. Spellman?” Lilith asked, her voice low, an amused smile just beginning to grace her lips. Her grip tightening reactively on Zelda’s arm. Zelda searched her gaze quickly, too obviously, and Lilith laughed. It was a rolling, momentarily soundless thing that came from some deep corner of her being. “Maybe I’m here to hurt  _ you _ , dear. Have you ever thought of that?” she asked, her voice a purr, her nails digging deeper into Zelda’s skin. Her eyes glowed like embers, stoked by Zelda’s fear, and Zelda’s heart skipped a beat.

Though it had been weeks, bordering on months, of Lilith’s regular dinners with the Spellman family, nothing of note had happened. In fact, all she seemed to be doing was toying with Zelda, breath hot on her neck when they did the dishes, their bodies close enough to share heat. And Zelda liked it more than she cared to admit, lashes fluttering, heat spreading, her body reacting of its own volition. Then Lilith started dragging her nails down Zelda’s arm hard enough to draw goosebumps. If they were alone, Lilith tutted and smirked at them as they formed on her skin. Zelda began to hate the control Lilith had exerted over her, the dominion she had taken. Yet she felt Lilith’s presence all the same. Felt her piercing, unnervingly solid gaze, her subtle touches, her quiet purrs of “how are you doing today, Ms. Spellman” and “you’re so stiff, dear” and “do I make you nervous?” The answer was yes in more ways than one.

Lilith had invaded her personal space so often that Zelda had finally isolated the scent on her skin. Wood smoke and overripe fruit. It had bothered her absently sometimes, and she focused on it when Lilith approached her so she didn’t have to focus on how much perfectly curled hair she had, how disarming her smile was as it slunk across her face, how delicious her curves were, and how well she could use them to her advantage. It wasn’t difficult to figure out that Lilith used everything about herself as a bargaining chip. Zelda was wary of that. Especially when Lilith’s words kept rolling through her head.  _ Maybe I’m here to hurt you, dear. _ It wasn’t so much the threat of bodily harm that scared her. It was that every time Zelda got close to figuring out Lilith’s intentions, something changed, the edges blurred and things got darker, colder. And it scared her that every time Lilith slipped further away, she found herself more drawn in, circling the drain into her waiting arms. 

“Is Lilith still coming for dinner tonight?” Sabrina asked over breakfast one morning.

“Well it is Thursday, isn’t it, dear?” Hilda asked as she picked the pieces of toast from the toaster and set them on a plate to bring to the table. 

When they were alone one night, Lilith ran a hand down her spine. “Do I scare you, Zelda?” she asked. Zelda stopped scrubbing. Lilith grabbed her hips and turned her around so they were face to face. Her eyes were darker than usual, hungry. “I know you’ve prayed to me,” she said casually, and Zelda felt a blush rise to her cheeks. “Oh don’t be embarrassed. Lots of witches do. Even your sister has. You admire me,” Lilith purred, taking a small step closer to her. Zelda inhaled sharply, unable to break eye contact. “I admire  _ you _ ...Zelda,” Lilith breathed, “your loyalty and dedication to family, your fierce maternal instincts, your unwavering strength and dignity in the face of adversity. You’re an admirable witch, Zelda. Not many people acknowledge that, do they? They think you’re cold, unfeeling, bitter. They don’t see what I see.”

Lilith had such an intense gaze, such bright blue eyes, such a gravity about her that Zelda couldn’t help but get drawn in. She felt seen, acknowledged, for once in quite a long time. Maybe frighteningly so. But Zelda couldn’t find the words to say anything intelligent, so she stood there dumbly while the mother of demons pressed her into her sink, one hand on the counter on either side of Zelda, and breathed hotly onto her cheek. Lilith had her absolutely spellbound, and Zelda didn’t even protest.

“You’re shaking,” Lilith commented, her voice rising to an amused lilt. Zelda hadn’t noticed, but she did notice when Lilith lowered her mouth to Zelda’s jaw and kissed it softly. “Relax, dear, I’m not going to hurt you. Not tonight,” she breathed into Zelda’s neck. Lilith dragged her lips slowly down her pulse point, and Zelda found herself tilting her head back to allow Lilith access. She closed her eyes and sighed when Lilith sucked and bit at the soft flesh of her neck, her chest tightening. And she gasped when Lilith hiked her onto the counter and gripped her waist tight enough to leave bruises. Zelda reacted out of a growing, desperate ache to bring Lilith closer, and she wasn’t proud of it. But she raised her hands to cup Lilith’s jaw and pull her mouth to hers nevertheless. Her lips were softer and warmer than Zelda expected, and she felt her chest constrict. Lilith’s hair tickled her cheek, her mouth was heavy on Zelda’s, and Zelda melted into her easier than she should have. 

It happened again not long after that first time. Zelda didn’t mention it to anyone, and she certainly didn’t talk about it with Lilith. She didn’t know what the woman wanted, didn’t know what she was looking for between Zelda’s legs, but she never seemed to find it because she always came back for more. Zelda didn’t protest. She was excellent at making Zelda forget that anything else in this damn world existed besides Lilith’s fingers and the pleasure they gave her. She appreciated the distraction. Though Lilith never let her return the favor. And Lilith was a beautiful, sultry woman, so Zelda would have been more than happy to be the one to force a moan out of her, to have her be the one to clench around nimble fingers, to watch her throw her head back, sweat shining on her forehead,  _ her _ cheeks flushed red for a change.

Lilith was rough. She squeezed and bruised and drew blood more often than not. Sometimes Zelda winced, and sometimes her heart skipped a beat thinking Lilith was going to hurt her. It would be the perfect time to—distracted, vulnerable, her body unguarded. But then the pain would melt into waves of absolute ecstasy, and she would forget that she was bleeding onto her favorite silk sheets.

Satan forbid Hilda ever found out. She’d never hear the end of it. And Zelda knew she deserved not to. But it was all harmless, really. It wasn’t as though she was getting attached. She hadn’t let her guard down. It was just sex. Whatever Lilith’s motivations, they were benefitting Zelda as well. 

Though there were times that Lilith frightened her in bed. Sometimes she would bite down on Zelda’s shoulder too hard, and she’d gasp or yelp in pain and dig her nails into Lilith’s arm. Lilith would just smirk at her dead in the eye. When she drew blood, Zelda would hiss and wince, and Lilith knew she’d taken it too far but continued on anyway. But Zelda didn’t have any scars so what was the harm? Lilith mended her wounds with a magic wave of her hand at the end of it all anyway. 

The last time Lilith was undressing her, a blur of lips and gasps and quick clumsy hands, she’d dragged a nail down Zelda’s bare shoulder blade. Though the nail barely touched her, it ripped open her skin with every inch it travelled, hot and sharp. Zelda cried out and lurched away, breathing heavily, feeling liquid dripping down her back. Lilith stuck her blood soaked finger into her mouth and sucked, never breaking eye contact. Zelda felt her heart pounding heavily in her chest and furrowed her brow, horrified.

“Sorry, I must have dug in a little too hard,” Lilith apologized in the stale, quiet air of Zelda’s bedroom.

“Get out,” Zelda commanded, trying to keep her voice strong.

“Zelda, it was—” 

“No. I think it’s time we end...this,” Zelda said, her back burning and her eyes watering from the pain. Lilith stood up, and Zelda felt fear bubble up in her, adrenaline tingling at her fingers. The true nature of their arrangement was flickering in the back of her mind, the beginning of an idea, an insight. Lilith didn’t continue to hurt Zelda for her pleasure. It was to show that she could.

Zelda swallowed. “Leave,” she commanded. Her voice was shaking now. Lilith nodded slowly.

“As you wish,” she responded before sauntering to the door. “I’ll see you for dinner tomorrow, Zelda,” Lilith said, her eyes burning blue like hellfire, dangerous, deliciously evil. When she had shut the door behind her, Zelda’s stomach clenched, and she stumbled to the bathroom, bleary eyed and dizzy. Tears burned at her eyes as she turned to examine her back, breathing ragged and shallow. There was a long, deep cut there and blood trickled down her back. There was no way Lilith’s finger had done that without magic. With shaking fingers, Zelda waved her hand over the wound, and it closed.

In the hours leading up to dinner the next night, Zelda paced and wrung her hands. Hilda had padded in the doorway to delicately ask what was wrong, and Zelda had snapped at her, something rude and unnecessary, directed at her sister’s personality or her cooking skills. In her anxious haze, Zelda couldn’t remember which it was. 

Lilith had gotten to her, had snuck into her head exactly like she had warned Sabrina not to let her do. And she was paying the price for it. Dinner dragged on, uneventful, but Zelda avoided eye contact. Afterwards, Lilith helped her with the dishes as usual. They didn’t speak, but Zelda felt the power dynamic between them shift more clearly than before. Lilith had complete dominion over her. Any sense of autonomy she thought she had, any semblance of safety, of the ability to protect her loved ones, was gone. Zelda knew Lilith could hurt them any time she pleased. Zelda knew her politeness and pleasant dedication was a ruse. But now she was truly seeing it. She was inside of it. A part of it. At the mercy of it.

“You know I truly do admire you, Zelda. I wasn’t lying,” Lilith spoke next to her. “You are the matriarch of your family. You guide them, look out for them, protect them. You  _ must _ be the strongest. You  _ must _ be the most vigilant, most skeptical, most...aware of the dangers your family might be in. It must be exhausting,” Lilith said, talking as if it was all theoretical, as if Lilith wasn’t the danger she spoke of, as if she wasn’t targeting her because she was the strongest of the Spellmans who blocked her path to Sabrina.

Zelda didn’t breathe a word of any of it to Hilda. She didn’t need her worrying. Though Lilith was right about one thing, and it was that she was the matriarch of the Spellman family. She was the one who was supposed to protect them and not the other way around. She could handle it. She could fix this. Besides, they were all were starting to see Lilith in a different light now. They feared and respected and admired her, but they never saw anything lurking below the surface like Zelda did. It was all talk, but so far there was no bite, and it had lulled them into a false sense of security. Satan help her, it had lulled Zelda as well.

When Lilith came over for dinner the next time, Zelda was more guarded than she had ever been around her, especially when they started talking about Sabrina. “She can protect herself now,” Lilith stated triumphantly. 

“Protect herself?” Zelda asked, panic spiking in her. 

“From being harrowed,” Lilith answered naturally, glancing around at the rest of the Spellmans situated at their dining room table. “Now that she’s signed the Book of the Beast, she has the Church of Night, her new powers, and the Dark Lord himself to protect her,” Lilith smiled, but it was forced, and it didn’t meet her eyes. “Much like WICCA at Baxter High. A recognized sisterhood,” she dispensed pleasantly, glancing to Sabrina who smiled. 

“I wish I had had the Dark Lord backing  _ me _ up when I was being harrowed,” Hilda gasped out a laugh and snorted in her usual infuriating way, glancing between Ambrose and Lilith and Sabrina. Zelda rolled her eyes and took a drag from her cigarette. It was a defense mechanism. Zelda had been ruthless to her younger sister, and it had been a sore spot on her conscience for years. 

“Oh, who harrowed you?” Lilith asked curiously. 

“My own sister, if you can believe it!” Hilda dispensed without thinking about what she was saying. Zelda’s ears burned. 

“Hilda, I don’t think Lilith is interested—” 

“What did she do to you, Hilda?” Lilith interjected too eagerly. Hilda sighed and shifted in her seat, glancing between the four of them. 

“Some terrible things. Scared the life out of me more than a few times,” she chuckled. “That year at the academy was the first time Zelda killed me, actually,” she mused, nodding softly. Lilith actually looked surprised for a moment. 

“Killed you?” she inquired. Zelda cleared her throat, but Hilda continued on. 

“Yeah, we have a Cain pit out in the cemetery. Harmless, really, I suppose,” Hilda shrugged, though Zelda knew she didn’t mean it. It was traumatic to be killed and brought back—or so she’d heard. She’d never actually been buried in the Cain pit, but seeing the state in which Hilda returned after each resurrection hurt Zelda more than she’d ever admit. She hadn’t killed Hilda in a long time. At first, at the academy, it was for fun, to watch her suffer. But then it became a way to teach Hilda a lesson when she was being stupid. When she dissuaded Sabrina from her baptism, for example. 

“A Cain pit,” Lilith mused. “I haven’t seen one of those in centuries. The Spellman roots must run deep.”

“Oh they do. We go back hundreds and hundreds of years,” Hilda explained happily. She always enjoyed the opportunity to talk about their ancestors. Though she may have had doubts about joining the Church, Hilda took immense pride in those who came before her. Zelda admired that about Hilda. As she continued on, Zelda took a drag from her cigarette and met Lilith’s gaze. She was surprised to find Lilith staring right at her looking ravenous, her eyes just  _ burning _ . The news of the Cain pit had ignited something deep inside of Lilith that frightened Zelda down to her core, something cold settling into her bones. 

It wasn’t until a few days later that Lilith found an opportunity to corner her again. “Hello, Zelda,” she purred.

“Lilith,” she responded curtly. 

“Oh, don’t be like that, dear. I’m just here to chat,” she drawled, “Well, maybe not just chat,” she smiled wide and bright, and Zelda felt her heart drop to the pit of her stomach. Not in a good way this time. Lilith was looking at her as if she wanted to devour her, and Zelda wasn’t sure if that meant rip her clothes off and fuck her right there in the hallway or if it meant something worse. Maybe a bit of both. “You didn’t tell me you had a Cain pit.” 

“Was I supposed to?” Zelda asked as Lilith encroached on her space. She held her ground as Lilith’s hands grazed her hips. Then she gripped them tightly and shoved her against the wall. Zelda gasped.

“No, I suppose not. Just an interesting development is all,” Lilith breathed, her lips finding Zelda’s jaw. Zelda didn’t want to find out what happened if she resisted. “You’re very protective of your home, you know. I noticed you bolstered your protection spell. I suppose that means I shouldn’t be able to get this close to you, hm?” Lilith inquired, peppering kisses down her neck, and she was right. The spell wasn’t supposed to allow her to come within spitting distance of Zelda or any other Spellman for that matter. Her stomach churned, and Lilith laughed into her neck, the noise reverberating in Zelda’s skin. “You think you can control me?” she asked, her voice high and delicate and cutting. “The Dark Lord wants Sabrina trained at the Academy. It will be done.” 

“And what do  _ you _ want?” Zelda growled. Lilith smiled. 

“The same of course,” she mused, pulling back to look into Zelda’s eyes. “And if you try to interfere, we’re going to have a problem. And I know you’ve been thinking about it, dear. I see that you’re afraid of the darkness if you cannot control it. You cannot control Sabrina. And you certainly cannot control me,” she warned, her lips ghosting over Zelda’s. “I have no problem with you, Zelda. So long as we understand each other. I’d hate for you to have to find out what the Cain pit tastes like.” 

“Do your worst,” Zelda growled defiantly. Lilith laughed that empty, cold shudder and reached up to cup Zelda’s face delicately in her hands. Zelda felt panic surge within her but was physically unable to move, sensing a fog of magic heavy on her limbs. 

“This isn’t even the beginning, dear,” Lilith snarled and reached one hand to cup the back of her head and the other to grab her chin. “I’m going to grind you down until you are nothing, Zelda. And the best part? You won’t remember I ever laid a hand on you.” Then with one quick motion, Lilith snapped Zelda’s neck and watched her clatter to the floor, a mass of lifeless flesh and bone.


	2. spare me my thoughts of hell

Lurched from the murky depths of some spiraling nightmare, Zelda woke gasping for breath, heart pounding heavy in her chest, her eyes darting across her room. It was morning, light streaming through her curtains, soft sun beams speckled with dust. Half dazed and still nearly asleep, Zelda’s eyes swept the shadowed corners with a lingering paranoia, searching for she didn’t know what. A figure, perhaps, dwelling hunched in the dark, something she couldn’t banish with a string of Latin and a surge of panicked magic. Zelda had to remind herself that in all her years, she’d never encountered something she couldn’t obliterate, kill, bind, or banish back to hell. As it became easier to keep her eyes open, stirring just enough to release her arm from under her stomach, she noticed a dull ache in the back of her head spreading rapidly through to behind her eyes. 

She sighed, pushing down the covers and rubbing gently at her eyes, trying to remember her dream, the remains of it itching at the corners of her mind, dwelling just outside her peripheral. She’d felt panic, she remembered, such blind terror that it tore at every fiber of her until she was surprised she wasn’t ripping herself apart, the surges of hot tingling adrenaline like coiled springs being let go and tightened and let go and tightened. She hadn’t felt that kind of fear in a long time. Zelda sat up then, mind slipping down into a past she’d rather keep buried. 

Swinging her legs over, feet touching the carpet, she frowned, heart jumping. Feeling cold, wet earth beneath her feet and crumbling between her toes, Zelda’s eyes glazed over. For a small moment, she felt herself slipping, spiraling down, the shadows from her dream chasing her around and around, the fear creeping back, so overwhelming that the edges of her vision were going. And then she blinked, dispelling the illusion with a quick gasp, realizing she hadn’t been breathing, and shoved her feet into her slippers. She glanced at the clock and frowned, trying to settle her quickened heart rate. It was later than she’d realized, annoyance flaring through her. Later, at least, than when she normally woke and cursed herself for sleeping through her alarm. Annoyed again, she wondered why Hilda hadn’t woken her up. She always made so much noise in the morning, opening and shutting drawers, humming saccharine little tunes to herself as if the morning birds themselves were possessing her. She glanced in the mirror above her dresser to look at Hilda’s side of the room. It was barren and cold, and Zelda, annoyed at herself once again, wondered when she was finally going to remember that Hilda didn’t sleep in that bed anymore.

When she made her way downstairs for breakfast, fully made up for the day, it was right when Sabrina usually descended from her room, and they met each other in the kitchen. Ambrose was already reclining in his usual seat, and Hilda was busy making breakfast, eggs sizzling on the stove and the smell of fresh fruit filling the room. “It’s alive!” Ambrose cried as he caught Zelda’s gaze, his voice shaking and his expression wild, before he grinned at her and slid his newspaper to her side of the table. She slid into her seat with practiced grace, stiff and formal in the way she kept her chin up. And her eyes glazed over the table, refusing to settle because that meant seeing their eyes examining her, documenting and cataloguing to figure out what was amiss. She despised being a specimen, and her growing headache was limiting her patience severely. 

“Oh, Zelda, good morning! Glad to see you’re awake. I was starting to worry!” Hilda snorted, “You’re usually up  _ long _ before me,” she drawled as if it was some inside joke, smiling warmly, and Zelda didn’t acknowledge her. 

“Yeah, you’re always reading the paper by the time I come down,” Sabrina offered as Zelda pulled a silver case from the pocket of her dress and plucked a cigarette from it with the slow grace of someone being watched. She ignored their stares and conjured a flame, holding the cigarette between her lips as she searched for her cigarette holder. Unable to find it, her nostrils flared and she took a long, annoyed drag. Her sleep had been jagged and unrestful, and she was starting to feel drained and a bit sick. She watched the three of them glance between each other. “Are you okay?” Sabrina asked, her voice lilting up, so hesitant and concerned. Zelda clenched her jaw, a hot pang of annoyance and embarrassment shooting through her. 

“I will be once you all stop pestering me,” she told them, expressionless and curt as she set down her cigarette in the ashtray that was perpetually on the table and picked up Ambrose’s newspaper, holding it firmly over her face. There was silence for a long, tense moment before Hilda bid Sabrina good morning, and they all started chatting about something mundane like the weather. Agitated, she had a difficult time focusing on Greendale’s minor troubles and eyed the spatterings of national news that she didn’t, quite frankly, give a damn about. It was always over inflated hot air, and Zelda tired of the theatrics. Setting the newspaper down, she grabbed her cigarette again and brought it to her lips. 

It was commonplace for Zelda to have a cigarette in the morning with her breakfast, drags in between scattered bites of marmalade toast. She liked to say that it cleared her mind, started off her day on a fresh note. Like stepping outside on a cold morning, it was rejuvenating. Sabrina might have been fooled by her silly attempts at levity. At least, she was under the impression that Zelda smoked before breakfast because she was an avid smoker and such was how nicotine addicts worked. 

However, Hilda saw through her misdirections in a way that Sabrina and Ambrose couldn’t. It was one of her more infuriating abilities. She was a talented healer and herbalist and certainly worth her salt in potions. It required her to be emotionally and physically intune with those around her, sensing things about people she may not have been able to name but could certainly feel, the foggiest hints of something unsettled, unbalanced in another person. Like auras, it was targeted, and she could sense it out like it was an ache in her own body. So from a young age, Hilda had always been  _ aware _ , but as she aged and her powers grew, her emotional intelligence grew exponentially. And she had known Zelda all her life, certainly long enough to know things about her that Zelda herself even refused to acknowledge. 

Their mother had called her an empath, had spouted it like a revelation when Hilda first started displaying intuitive emotional abilities on a level that wasn’t normal for a child her age. They later found out it was a result of her healing abilities, but until then Hilda had been heralded as a gift straight from the Dark Lord. Their mother had always been a bit eccentric behind closed doors. Zelda hadn’t seen it until later. She’d been far too busy trying to keep herself from wringing Hilda’s throat, the way her parents fawned over her making Zelda’s blood boil.

And she would sooner kill Hilda than let her know all the things that troubled her, the thoughts that haunted her, and that was often the case. Though over the years she’d gotten good at putting up walls to keep Hilda from crawling around inside her head. In the morning, however, when the light was too soft and Zelda was still dazed with the remnants of sleep, before she had her first cigarette, she rarely had the energy to put up any walls, to keep bits of herself from leaking through loud enough for Hilda to tune in. It required enough mental gymnastics just to be presentable on the outside, let alone the inside. So Hilda knew she smoked before breakfast because she woke up already wound tight, melancholic, and weary. And she needed something to relax her, even if just for a moment. But Hilda didn’t know why, and that was an unholy blessing in itself. Zelda would rather follow the false god than explain it to her and watch her face contort into awkward, helpless pity. Thankfully, Hilda had thus far spared her the embarrassment of asking what was burning behind those curious eyes. She knew Zelda might just kill her right then and there if she did. 

By the time Sabrina left for school, Zelda was practically bursting from her seat, desperate to get away from prodding eyes. She excused herself quickly, and Hilda watched her with concern as she left the room, her second cigarette of the day tucked between her fingers. She hadn’t the faintest idea of where she’d put her cigarette holder, but she loathed to let her fingers smell like tobacco for long and was eager to find it. 

The thought bothered her absently as she left for the Academy that morning, an annoyed haze settling over her, her headache getting worse as the hours dragged on. Ambrose accompanied her, so eager to run his errands for Father Blackwood. Not that she blamed him after being trapped in the mortuary for seventy five years. And she was there to teach the Unseen Choir. After Lady Blackwood’s passing, Zelda had become a permanent figure at the academy, and her liaisons with Faustus had ended with his fervent and greedy infatuation with his son Judas. The endorphins of new love that he felt had been twisted into some desperate crusade to elevate his son to unearthly status, to paint him as an unholy gift from the Dark Lord. Of course, all new parents said that about their children, but Faustus meant it quite literally. 

She found his enthusiasm tiresome and delusional and tried to steer clear of him for the time being. That and he reminded her too much of Leticia. Thoughts of the little one were accompanied by a bittersweet sadness that brought everything Zelda thought she could hold on her shoulders crashing down around her. She couldn’t keep Leticia in her home. He would find out. It was too convenient, too easy, and Faustus wasn’t an easy man. His name brought twinges of fear to the back of her mind and a fierce maternal need to cradle Leticia in her arms and protect her from the man who didn’t deserve to be called her father. 

During the children’s lunch hour, Zelda took her food in her office, as usual. It was a small thing, really, and had been occupied by Constance before her death. Some of her things still lingered here, a paperweight and pens, some books and nicknacks, even a handkerchief stuffed haphazardly in a drawer. Sometimes Zelda swore it smelled like her, Constance’s presence hanging heavy in the air for the sole purpose of making Zelda suffer. During the course of her and Faustus’s little affair, Zelda truly hadn’t felt any pity or sadness for her until Sabrina baked Hilda’s truth cake and Constance called him a voracious slut. It was an admittedly true statement, even by witch standards which had always been less stringent than their mortal counterparts. Zelda was under no delusion that Constance was ignorant of her husband’s actions, but she hadn’t realized how much the woman cared. Zelda forced herself to feel no pity or regret and showed as much on the outside, sloughing it all off with a nonchalant self-absorption, but in some remote corner of her mind she felt shameful.

There was a knock on her door, and she swallowed the bite of her salad she was chewing. “Come in,” she called as the door opened and Faustus slid inside with a glint in his eye. “Faustus, what a lovely surprise.” 

“Zelda, how are you? I trust you and your family made it through the Solstice and Witch Epiphany in good health,” he drawled, inhaling deeply through his nose, stepping toward her. 

“There were a few bumps in the road, I’m afraid,” Zelda sighed, a weary smile on her lips, “but such is life with a teenage witch.” 

“Ah, yes, Sabrina is  _ quite _ the troublemaker,” he said with a knowing raise of his brow, and Zelda had no arguments there. 

“And your first holiday season with Judas?” she asked, blinking and swallowing, suddenly very aware of her posture. 

“Wonderful. He was spoiled with gifts!” he beamed, and though Zelda could respect the love he had for his child, she was particularly wary of how exactly Faustus was  _ spoiling _ the boy. Would he grow up to be just like his father? Would he, like Sabrina with Edward, see his teachings and take them further? He continued telling Zelda about his Solstice with Judas, going on about the gifts and the rituals, and through it all there was scarcely a mention of Prudence. In a way, it reassured Zelda that her decision to spirit Leticia away was founded. 

When Sabrina had let it slip to Lilith, who they’d known as Mary at that time, about Leticia over dinner one evening, she’d been astonished. They’d sat in paralyzing fear for what felt like a long, stagnant moment before Mary had congratulated them on saving a child. “Truly, Zelda, it was the right thing to do. Faustus is a beast of a man. Satan knows what he would have done to the child,” she’d shaken her head and looked straight at Zelda with all the earnest conviction of being a mother herself. Now, Zelda knew that was true in the very loosest sense of the word. Though, for all Zelda knew, Lilith might honestly love her children, all those demons, the depraved, the damned. She’d never thought to ask and knew it would be entirely improper to do so. 

And Zelda hated how when Lilith had looked at her, her eyes hard and decidedly set, and told her that she was right, Zelda almost started crying. She hadn’t known, not really, if she had done what was best for the babe or if she’d been selfish, if she’d overstepped, if she’d ruined her own and her family’s and baby Leticia’s lives. A wave of overwhelming relief washed over her, and a hard, hot lump lodged itself in her throat. She blinked away tears before anyone could see and swallowed a few times to clear her throat, avoiding eye contact. Ambrose and Sabrina had never said it. Hilda had certainly never said it. She’d even been so brazen and skeptical and appallingly selfish as to ask her if she’d made a magic baby. In the weeks following, they’d teased her about it, using Leticia to emphasize her poor judgment, and Zelda began to feel...uncertain. 

“Zelda?” Faustus asked, and she blinked, eyes focusing back on him. 

“Forgive me, I...didn’t sleep well last night,” she admitted, and she supposed it was true. A headache had been pounding at the back of her head since she’d woken up, but there was something else too. Some unbalance, something tilted on its axis that made her inexplicably on edge all day. It had been difficult to tell if the children were in tune or not. 

“It’s good to be well rested for your duties here at the Academy,” he informed her, chin up and haughty as he stood next to her desk, nostrils flared, almost a warning. He seemed upset, tinged with annoyance that she’d missed his last few sentences in her daze. Zelda swallowed. He had that look in his eyes, something too controlled and sparking, ready to ignite, and she preferred not to test his patience. 

“Of course,” she conceded, bowing her head just an inch. He hummed, eyeing her, and Zelda wavered for a moment, unsure whether he was going to try and initiate one of their trysts. 

“Once you’re feeling better I’m sure we can find some time to talk about the spring concert over a drink,” he suggested, resting a hand near hers on the desk. She inhaled deeply, eyes dragging up to meet his. It wasn’t an entirely unpleasant thought, Faustus’s hands on her, nails sharp as diamonds raking her skin, perhaps a cat o’nine tails on her back. 

“I’m sure we could,” she mused, eyes sparkling in time with Faustus’s. 

“Goodday, Sister Spellman,” he drawled, lips curling up as he turned to leave her office. She nodded once at him and sat back in her chair when he was gone. She thought about it for a moment and decided that she’d rather have Lilith’s hands on her. She was much more talented with her tongue than Faustus, and even more skilled with a whip. 

By the time she arrived back home, her headache had eroded all coherent thought, and she blearily set down her things, searching for a glass of whiskey. When she walked into the sitting room, she was startled to see Lilith near her fireplace, leafing through the books on the shelves just to the left of it. “Lilith?” she asked, head burning hotter at the sound of her own voice. Lilith turned then, brow raised, body tight and movements curated in a way that was constant and unique to her. “I didn’t know you’d be coming over.” 

“Not happy to see me?” Lilith asked playfully, stepping away from the fireplace to greet Zelda by the armchair she was next to, a steadying hand on the back of it. Zelda hesitated, mouth opening. 

“Just surprised,” she corrected, blinking and shifting her weight to her other foot. Lilith stared at her for a moment that dragged on too long, and Zelda raised her palm to her forehead, needing something she didn’t have. The harder she tried to focus on Lilith the harder her head pounded, and, “Satan, I need a cigarette,” she breathed, nearly a gasp. Lilith conjured one for her, already lit, and handed it to Zelda with a steady hand. Zelda thanked her and was promptly led to a chair to sit down. 

“You don’t look well, dear,” Lilith said, moving to sit in the armchair near the fireplace. Zelda took a needed drag from the cigarette and didn’t answer. “No cigarette holder?” Lilith mused, and Zelda raised her eyes, smoke curling from her lips. She eyed the delicate way Lilith had her arms open wide, draped over the chair, feigning vulnerability. She filled the room with her deliciously amused, predatory stare and her pristine posture and her eyes that screamed  _ look at me _ _._ Zelda hesitated, her shoulders tensing. 

“I lost it. If you must know,” she answered, all haughty and distant, but the choppy way her sentences flowed betrayed her preoccupation with Lilith’s games. 

Lilith hummed, lowering her gaze to Zelda’s lips as they closed over the cigarette. “I wonder where it could have gotten to,” she drawled, and her words dripped so thickly with curiosity that it was almost comical how fake it was. Zelda’s breathing hitched then as the smell of wet earth filled her nose, and she felt dirt crumbling between her fingers. She blinked and moonlight shone behind her eyelids. The schluck of a shovel piercing the earth filled her ears. “Any ideas?” Lilith asked, her voice bringing Zelda back to the sitting room, to Lilith sitting across from her, to the smell of Lilith’s perfume, wood smoke and overripe fruit, wafting into her nose. 

“None…come to mind,” Zelda stumbled, a bit disoriented and confused. Her headache spiked, and a fierce twinge manifested in her neck. 

“Zelds?” a voice called from the hallway, and she turned to find Hilda in the doorway. “Oh, there you are. Dinner’s almost ready,” she announced to the both of them, eyes dragging between them, lingering for a moment and then smiling. Zelda dug two fingers into her temple and sighed as Hilda disappeared, calling Sabrina and Ambrose down for dinner. Her headache was the worst it had been all day right now with Lilith across from her. Lilith didn’t say anything to her, just watched, and it unsettled Zelda more than it had in a long time. 

When they’d still known Lilith as Mary, as a mortal and then as a witch, Zelda forced an allotted mistrustful distance between them. First because she’d be damned before she believed the pathetic yarn that Mary had spun about her relationship to Zelda’s brother. If she’d worked as closely with Edward as she said she did, and Satan forbid they’d been involved with each other, Zelda would have known about it. She was sure of it. Granted, the years that Mary claimed as her time with Edward were ones where his relationship with his sisters had been strained to say the least. There was a point where they didn’t hear from each other for decades, but that was all far too convenient for Zelda. Always the skeptic, Hilda would say, but she felt something was wrong too. It wasn’t until after the dinner with Mary when she found out about Leticia that Zelda started to drift toward the woman, her curiosity getting the better of her, and perhaps a very basic need to be understood too. As distrustful as she was of Mary, her actions toward the Spellman family thus far hadn’t been strictly harmful per se. Unorthodox and dangerous, yes, but it had always been Sabrina that ultimately turned things sour for them. And, in the end, Mary had been there time and again to help Sabrina out of the messes she made. But then she was Lilith and everything changed. 

Lilith frowned then as if she could sense Zelda’s thoughts, her ponderings of Lilith’s invasion into their family. “Are we really doing this again?” she asked, breaking the heavy silence. Zelda blinked and licked her lips. 

“Doing what?” 

“You know what I mean. I thought we’d moved past this. Don’t you trust me by now? Haven’t I proven myself?” Lilith asked, her brow furrowed. She looked so sincere, positively baffled at why Zelda was still worried. She hadn’t harmed Sabrina, that was true. Though her version of protection was morally gray to say the least. And up until this moment Zelda had been okay with Lilith, had existed with her in a curious state of grace. Her worries had slipped away as Lilith’s care and attentiveness toward her family took its place. She acted like a mother to Sabrina, and perhaps that was why Zelda’s fears were inching back. The more Sabrina drifted away from Zelda, the closer Lilith crept to her. 

“Well, you lied to us. We thought you were Mary Wardwell,” Zelda answered, taking another drag from her cigarette. Once she knew her as Lilith, Zelda began to suspect that she cared little for anything but her own agenda. Her being Lilith changed something in Zelda’s perception, tinged it darker, more sinister, even if it wasn’t supported by Lilith’s actions. “Trust is easy to shatter, much more difficult to rebuild,” she added, hoping she appeared more mentally resolute than she felt. 

“I haven’t harmed you or your family have I? Like I’ve said, I’m just here to make sure Sabrina stays on the Path of Night. Guide her, if you will. The Dark Lord has taken a special interest in Sabrina. Isn’t that wonderful?” Lilith asked gently, cocking her head, intense blue eyes piercing the walls Zelda relentlessly put up. She hadn’t even thought of Lilith as a parasite anymore, as something that had maliciously invaded their home. Things had been okay. So she hadn’t the faintest idea what triggered this worry, this intense danger sign flashing in her mind, the urge to  _ get away _ _._ “Are you sure you’re alright, dear?”


End file.
